Wanted Dead or Alive
by Blood Dark Sun
Summary: Engmano AU. Framed for a crime he didn't commit, Arthur Kirkland flees to an unfamiliar city, where he meets a man whose presence disrupts his already-fractured life. Rated T for language and innuendo.
1. I Love Rock & Roll

_Today I set myself a challenge: Write down the titles of all the songs I heard on the Sirius '80s channel while running errands, and craft them into an Engmano chapter for "First Contact." Well, I wrote down all the titles, and by the time I got home realized that it has to be a whole new story with multiple chapters. Enjoy._

…

**I Love Rock & Roll.**

Arthur ducked into the noisy bar and pushed his way right to the far wall, taking deep breaths, scanning the place. On this Saturday night the unfamiliar place was packed. If he could rest here for an hour without being caught, it would help. He had been on the run constantly, last night and today; had gotten to this strange city, eaten a little, napped while resting on a toilet seat in the stall of a dingy bus station men's room. The situation, at this point, was desperate. How fast would he have to run? How far? For the rest of his life? Where could he actually go, to be safe?

He'd purchased a baseball cap and reading glasses that somewhat disguised his shock of unruly blond hair, his bright green eyes and thick dark eyebrows. Blast, maybe he should get them waxed or some rubbish like that. No doubt the police considered those bloody eyebrows to be his distinguishing facial feature. Arthur took the reading glasses off and stowed them in the pocket of his denim jacket.

After a few moments, allowing his breathing to settle to normal, he began to relax slightly. The back door to the bar he could see down a nearby hallway. Flight would be easy, if the authorities tried to apprehend him here. He stood up straight, wondering if he could risk a drink, then decided against it. He needed his brain clear and alert. His eyes flicked around the crowded place once more, seeking threats.

Instead, they found a distraction. A _big _distraction. Over by the jukebox he could see the most gorgeous man ever! Dark-haired, the stranger appeared alone, scowling at the patrons, not drinking, just moving slightly to the beat. He waited for someone to approach that brunet, but no one did.

The Brit loved rock and roll, and this song would be perfect to dance to. Arthur hadn't been with anyone in a long time, and now with this new horror in his life, it'd probably be a long time before he had the leisure to do so again. Pushing aside his panic and fear, ignoring the fact that the dark-haired stranger might not want to dance with a man, he stumbled through the crowd and came to a stop right before him.

Bloody hell, this git was even better up close. He cleared his throat. "You like this song?" he asked roughly, the fear coloring his voice.

The other man's stance turned aggressive. "Yeah, I like it, bastard, so what?" The Italian-accented voice shocked Arthur, but oh, it sounded good. The man's scowl intensified. By the dim bar lighting Arthur could see a flash of angry fire in his eyes.

"Dance with me," he begged impulsively, reaching out to grab the other man's wrist.

The brunet pulled back. "No can do. S-sorry." But his eyes (Brown? Amber? Impossible to tell in the dark) then softened and looked Arthur up and down.

The Brit could feel his arousal growing, just from the way this wanker stood, smirked, raised a delicate eyebrow. Like a heat flowing from the other man's body, it washed over him, filling him with dangerous lust. "Are you some kind of goody-two-shoes?" he snapped out, trying to fight the feeling. "Too scared to dance with me?"

"What the fuck, let's dance. My damn date's not going to show," the man then shrugged, shocking the hell out of Arthur, but pleasing him as well. They moved to the edge of the dance floor and finished the song, flexing and swaying to the heavy beat. The blond forgot his worries, his reputation, and the pursuit, all in the heat of the moment with this lithe Italian man.

When the dance ended (all too soon) they moved together to the bar. Arthur did remember to keep his focus. "Club soda," he requested, slapping a fiver on the sticky wooden surface.

"Club _soda?_" his dance partner asked in disbelief.

"Don't want to get drunk and miss anything," the blond responded with a forced cheeky grin. "You're too hot for me to ignore." He watched the sardonic eyebrow raise slightly, the smirk begin again, before the music changed to a slow haunting love song. Arthur held his breath. Would they dance? He decided not to take a chance and dragged the other man back to the dance floor, drinks untouched.

"Pushy fucker," the Italian laughed, putting his arms around Arthur's neck and pressing against him. "I like that."

"What's your name?" He slid his hands down as far as he dared.

"Lovino," the man purred right into his ear, making all the little hairs stand up, and starting that wash of arousal again. "What's yours?"

"Just call me England," he replied. Naturally he wasn't going to give his real name to a total stranger, no matter how delicious the man was. Not with the cops on his tail. Panicking, he glanced around the bar again, but so far everything looked good.

Lovino didn't answer, just made a melting little moan into the blond's ear.

Arthur couldn't stand this anymore. "Do you live around here?" he asked wildly. Yeah, he wanted to make love to the git, but also, maybe some anonymous apartment would be a haven for a day or two while he planned his next move. Because he absolutely refused to be taken and condemned for that bloody frame-up! He forced himself to breathe deeply, to maintain the seductive pace, so he wouldn't scare this man away.

"Why do you want to know?" The accented voice grew deeper and rougher.

It was all the Brit could do not to start molesting Lovino right in the middle of the dance floor! His erection was painful at this point, and he grabbed the Italian's hips and pushed closer to him. "Why do you think?" He leaned forward and allowed his tongue to stroke the edge of Lovino's warm, warm ear. _Blast...delicious..._

"Uh, bastard, you – fuck, yes. Let's get out of here." Lovino tried to lead him towards the front door, but the crush was too strong. While they pushed forward, the blond yanked the reading glasses back out of his pocket and put them on.

They finally made it to the door, where the brunet turned and looked at this in surprise. "Professor?" he asked idly.

"Let's get to your place," Arthur begged, panting in desire. "Chit-chat later." He crushed Lovino close for a passionate kiss on the sidewalk, and the git's hot tongue nearly drove him over the edge. "Come on."

"Yeah," his new friend moaned, sounding weak. "This way." He took Arthur's hand and they fled down a side street towards a modest apartment building in the distance.

Once inside the door the two of them frantically reached for each other, ripping off clothing, hands grasping, tongues busily licking every inch of skin they could reach. They didn't even make it to the bedroom, but the blond Brit didn't give a flying fuck. If it hadn't been for the bloody pursuit, his fear for his life, Arthur would have stayed in this living room, making love to this Lovino, for the rest of his life.

…

_Songs in this chapter:_

"_I Love Rock & Roll" (Joan Jett)_

"_I Can't Go For That (No Can Do)" (Hall & Oates)_

"_Goody Two Shoes" (Adam Ant)_

"_Can't Fight This Feeling" (REO Speedwagon)_

"_Let's Dance" (David Bowie)_

"_Heat of the Moment" (Asia)_

_Don't know whether I'll keep using songs for inspiration or not. There were a few more that played during my errand-running which will be incorporated into the future chapters, though._


	2. The Power of Love

_Well, I'm bored with it already and it's not getting much love. Instead of going through 20+ chapters of crime drama, legal issues and star-crossed romance, I'm just going to wrap this up here. Hope you enjoy it._

…

**The Power of Love.**

Sunday morning Arthur rolled over in the big bed, instantly worried about the pursuit, but then he remembered his erotic and romantic time with Lovino and began to blush, pushing his hot face into a puffy down pillow. They'd spent all day Saturday in bed, laughing and loving, except for snacks and a rather steamy shower together…blast, what a lover that man was! If only Arthur didn't have to jump up and run for his life again. He sighed. He'd already put it off one day. He'd definitely have to leave today.

But the bed was otherwise empty; he could hear a clattering noise coming from the kitchen. Unable to get back to sleep, he rose, washed up and dressed himself (leaving off the reading glasses, jacket and cap) and slipped out into the living area.

Lovino sat on the floor in front of the television, eating cereal from a bowl and frowning delicately. He lifted the remote and muted the show. "Must be British week or something." He patted the rug next to him.

"What do you mean?" Arthur crossed the room and sat; they shared a brief chocolate-flavored kiss. "And good morning."

"Good morning to you, too." Lovino poked a spoonful of Reese's Puffs into Arthur's mouth. "Best thing the Americans ever invented," he went on, pointing emphatically at the bowl with his spoon.

"Too much bloody sugar," he crunched, laughing. "What were you saying about Britain?" Arthur licked the sweet milk from his lips and his new friend leaned over to help. "Mm. Maybe I don't even care."

But the brunet then raised the bowl between them like a shield. "Let me finish eating. Anyway, what I was saying was, I never met a single English bastard before in my life, and now two have shown up in one weekend! You and this guy." He gestured towards the TV – the news –

"Oh, _shit,_" Arthur moaned, covering his face. Was that bloody manhunt on? He had to get out of here, to protect himself, to keep Lovino from harm. Trying to scramble up off the floor, he found himself jerked back down by the strong Italian hand.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to get out of here!"

Arthur leaped up and ran again but Lovino was faster and threw the cereal bowl down, splashing milk everywhere, as he lunged for the door. He put his back to it, arms spread, to keep the blond from leaving. "E-England…please. If you're in trouble, let me help? Please? I know something's wrong, because you won't give me your real name. I want to help you." Tears sprang to his beautiful caramel-colored eyes. "I like you, so much…I will try to help, I promise. You can trust me. I'm a lawyer, and if –"

"You're a lawyer?" Arthur interrupted. "I thought lawyers were all loaded." He glanced around the nice apartment, which was pretty up-to-date and modern, but nothing like he'd expect some hotshot young lawyer to have.

"Well, I'm a pretty, uh, _junior_ lawyer…but I still want to help you." The brunet bit his lip.

Arthur knew it was wrong to get Lovino involved in this blasted mix-up. If he had to go to jail – or even as far as Death Row – why should he drag his beautiful new friend down with him? But the Italian's expression was so focused and sincere that Arthur almost found himself believing it could work out. He stood dithering, ignoring the pleading eyes, the blush on the tan cheeks, trying to make a decision that he knew would change his life.

Pfft. As if his life hadn't been totally buggered up already. "Okay. I'll trust you." He sagged in place. Legal aid would undoubtedly be useful, too.

Lovino nodded. "Come sit back down?"

They walked back to the couch. "Have you seen much of the news today?" the Brit asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Yes. I've been awake for an hour or so, and I always watch the news first thing in the morning. You know we didn't have much time for it yesterday." They laughed together; Arthur amazed himself by being able to do that in this dire situation. Lovino gestured towards the television and kept talking. "I know the news is always available on the internet, but I like the old-fashioned feeling of having someone tell me the news on TV."

"What – what did you see?" He couldn't believe how calm Lovino was being. If the news of that robbery and murder had hit the broadcasts, surely he would be nervous at having spent the weekend with an alleged killer?

"Won't you tell me your real name?"

Arthur sighed. Yes, if he was going to trust, he had to start somewhere. "My name is Arthur Kirkland. I live in Washington, DC."

"I thought so. This news report talked about you, but the pictures and security footage were really shitty."

"Security footage, my arse." He nearly spat on the rug, but caught himself.

"Look. A-Arthur. Tell me what happened. Either tell me what you did, or what you think is going on."

So he explained what had set him off on his flight. "Right. I knocked off work a little early on Friday and went to the pub. Things haven't been going so well, and I was fed up, wanted a pint to help me relax. They have all these tellys on the wall showing sports, and the local channel interrupted a ball game with this news report saying that I'd broken into my boss' home, killed him and his secretary, and stolen a load of stuff from him!" He started to hyperventilate but tried to calm down when he felt Lovino's soothing touch on his arm. "Er. Y-yeah. Well, then they showed pictures of me, so people could find me and report me, and then they showed some security footage that I know had to be fake. It _has_ to be faked! I don't even know where the wanker lives!" His voice rose to a hoarse yell.

"Hush," Lovino said calmly, taking his hands. "Relax, _biondo_. Relax. What did you do after that?"

He let go of the warm hands and scrubbed his own through his hair angrily. "Blast. Well, I ran out of the bloody pub without paying, stole a cap on the way out, took a cab to the airport and then a different one back to the bus station, bought the stupid reading glasses, bought a bus ticket to New York but got off in Philly and headed back towards Baltimore. Got off the bus downtown, took a nap in the men's room, went to hide in a bar, and found you."

"And that's it?"

"Isn't that enough?" he scowled. What more did the git want to hear? This was embarrassing him a great deal, and making him angrier. Who the bloody hell could have –

"Sorry. I meant why you ran away. If – if you didn't actually commit this crime. Why'd you run? Makes you look guilty. Like you were trying to confuse your tracks."

Arthur froze and then let all his breath out at once. "I – I didn't think of that." He could feel himself blushing with embarrassment. How bloody stupid! Of course it would make him look guilty. "I just didn't want to be arrested."

"Okay. Let me talk to you like a lawyer for a little bit. When did you see the news? At the pub, I mean. What time of day was it?"

"'Bout three-thirty. Wasn't really checking the clock."

"When did they say this had happened? Did you hear that much?"

Arthur nodded. "Thursday night, around midnight. I – I don't have any kind of alibi for it."

Then to his amazement Lovino leaned forward and embraced him, holding him close. "You don't have to worry at all, _biondo_. Not one bit."

Despite his panic he managed to relax a little and put his arms around his friend. "Why not? Are you that good a lawyer that you've cracked the case already?" He smiled.

"Not me. The cops figured it out. The whole thing was on the news before you got up. I – I just wanted to see if you would…trust me, and tell the truth." He looked nervous again.

"I'm glad I did. Are – are we all right, you and I?"

"Yes, of course we are, you idiot." The brunet grabbed him and kissed him fiercely.

"Mm, wait, though. Tell me about the ruddy news report? Then kissing."

With a smile, Lovino silently reached for the remote and unmuted the television, where coverage continued.

The blond finally dared to glance that way. "That's _Selina!_" he yelled out. "He shaved his bloody head?"

"Who is that bastard? You know him?"

Arthur ignored this and listened, jaw dropped, to the newscaster, who, having finished the report, began all over again with the details of this messy and dramatic crime.

Kyle Selina, an Australian co-worker of his, had been apprehended and arrested for the twin murders and the theft of several thousand dollars' worth of property: jewels, silver, artworks. Apparently he'd confessed within minutes of capture. Confessed to wearing a blond wig and taking Arthur's Lord Nelson statuette off his desk to plant evidence at the crime scene. That statuette had been the first indicator that Arthur wasn't the guilty party. What kind of killer would bother taking such a thing to a crime scene? It must have been planted there.

Having realized that, the police had examined everything else in more detail, and found the bloodied blond wig in the employer's kitchen trash. Questioning the high-level employees at the company had led to more information in Arthur's favor – everyone mentioned how much he and Kyle resembled each other, similar accents and eyebrows. (Well, he supposed that to a bloody American their accents would sound similar.) Police had launched a manhunt for Selina immediately, and they'd caught him at Dulles airport with his head and eyebrows shaved and a very bad spray-tan that had smeared all over when they'd grabbed him by the arm.

Almost immediately the Australian had told them everything, heedless of his Miranda rights. He had said he was tired of getting passed over for promotion, that he hated his employer and the snotty secretary, and that, while he had no particular feelings against Arthur, the Brit was undoubtedly handy for taking the fall. Then he'd given directions to the rented storage unit where he'd stashed the loot. Very cooperative, almost cheerful, as if he knew there was no hope.

The newscaster wrapped up the recap by stating that Selina's trial would begin immediately on Monday morning, and that Arthur was completely exonerated. Police were busy preparing an official apology that would be tendered to him at his residence.

The blond groped for the remote wordlessly and switched off the television. He sat staring at it in disbelief for several seconds before feeling a touch on his shoulder that made him jump a little. He'd completely forgotten about Lovino while attending to the broadcast, and now found himself confused and a little disoriented. "Well?" his new friend asked.

"Er."

"That all you can say, exonerated bastard?"

He turned to see Lovino smiling brightly at him. "For the moment. I can't think of anything else to say. Whew." He leaned back onto the cushions. "What a bloody lunatic."

"Bloody stupid lunatic," Lovino agreed in his thick Italian accent, making them both laugh.

Arthur could actually now feel the adrenaline draining from him, the physical slackening of the intensity that had kept him on the run for twenty-four hours straight. Despite his best manly intentions tears of relief sprang to his eyes, but instead of the derision he expected, he again felt his friend embracing him supportively. "You're all right now, Arthur. You're safe here, or anywhere you want to be."

For several moments he simply relaxed in that embrace, leaning against Lovino, feeling the support of a caring friend. But soon his thoughts began to flow again. "I wonder if they'll want to know why I ran off?" This did worry him. They might think of him as an accomplice?

"Easily solved." Lovino kissed his cheek sweetly. "You didn't miss any work or anything, right? Just tell them you came to see me for the weekend."

The Brit blinked. "You'd do that for me? You barely know me."

Lovino nodded, seeming a bit nervous. But after pressing his lips together sternly he relaxed and explained. "That's true, but I like what I see. And I don't just mean sex-wise, or how fucking handsome you are. You've been attentive and considerate to me all weekend, Arthur, like a real friend. Once you started to trust me, I – uh – d-do you have a boyfriend?" he interrupted himself.

"No." Arthur's face softened further and he smiled weakly at his companion. "Nobody's ever going to measure up to you, after this." They kissed tenderly. "You've been absolutely perfect."

"Move to Baltimore," Lovino blurted out. "Please."

He didn't address that right away. "Don't _you_ have a boyfriend? I find that really hard to believe."

"Hah." Lovino let go and rose to clean up the cereal and milk, which had been soaking into the carpet all this time. He took the things to the kitchen and came back, dropping back onto the couch. "Well. I kind of do. Th-there's this bastard. Ivan. He – he says we're together, but half the time he stands me up and I'm too chicken to ask him why. Is he actually too vacant to remember our dates? Sometimes I can believe it. Or is he messing around with someone else – maybe a bunch of someone elses? Who knows? B-but I've always been afraid to approach some man on my own. I'm…really glad you asked me to dance, Arthur."

"Oh, me too." Sitting together on the soft couch, he reached out and clasped his friend's hand. He started out by wondering how anyone could forget the dramatic and stunning Lovino, then how Lovino could be so certain of Arthur that he'd ask him to move to Baltimore! After one measly weekend and then learning about the criminal situation? Of course, the criminal situation wasn't really a problem anymore…

After some more thoughts in the comforting silence, he spoke quietly. "I'm going back to the District for a while." He saw Lovino slump against the cushions, closing his eyes, his hand slackening, so Arthur tried to clarify this. "Just to see how everything goes. I'm – I'm not sure how things will be for me. Will there be crime notoriety? Will the people at my office treat me like a pariah? I'm almost afraid to go back." He took a deep breath and squeezed his friend's hand. "B-but if it sucked, I'd have to move away, and, well, Baltimore isn't so bad."

Lovino's eyes opened again and he started to smile. "You'd consider it?"

"Well...you know…it's not even an hour's drive from DC to Baltimore. We – we could keep seeing each other pretty easily on the weekends regardless of where I live, and then – and then if it worked out, you know, between us, maybe we could – could find a place, halfway? A place to live together?" He squinched his eyes shut as tightly as possible, hoping Lovino wouldn't take offense at this hasty suggestion.

Instead he felt the warm lips on his cheek. "Bastard, you've got yourself a deal."

…

_The Power of Love (Huey Lewis and the News) is the only song I specifically used in this chapter._

"_Selina Kyle" is Catwoman. When I read that one of the possible human names for Australia was Kyle, I had to use it._


End file.
